My Fair Cissy
by quibbler149
Summary: Lucius makes a bet that he can transform the Cockney-accented Narcissa Black into a society lady. But in the end, he gets a little more than he bargained for. Based on My Fair Lady.
1. Ain't No Li'tle Girl

_Disclaimer: I am not, nor will ever be J. K Rowling. I also do not own My Fair Lady or Pygmalion._

Chapter One:

In the magical world, a lady must behave as ladies do: in a certain fashion. This rule was especially pronounced should you be a pureblood girl of ancient and noble heritage. And with all that in mind, the Blacks would most certainly fall into that category. Druella Black, however, found more pleasure in attending social parties than looking after her daughters' manners.

As a result, the three young girls grew up running wildly in different circles of London. The oldest, Bellatrix, entangled herself with a dark ring of other pureblood acquaintances, believing in a noble 'cause' and becoming all too learned in the art of death and seduction.

The second eldest daughter, Andromeda, sook refuge with her cousin, Sirius. Together they wore away winters with laughter and promising ideals. Much too often would Aunt Walburga find them curled up beside a stray window in Grimmauld Place, discussing dreams and whatnot.

Ignored by her sisters and finding no place to belong, Narcissa, the youngest, wandered absently through societal corridors, lingering ne'er too long in one place. She was an outcast and remained so even when the sisters relocated to Hogwarts. Through means unknown to her family, she had acquired the most disastrous dress sense and Cockney accent.

However, her mother did not find it necessary to concern herself with these matters, her father was always away on business trips (and too tired to notice much when he returned for however brief a period) and her two sisters found more mirth in teasing her about her disastrous misfortunes than educating her on them.

And thus, Narcissa Black found herself wandering the hallways of Hogwarts in invisibility.

Fateful tragedy struck in Narcissa's second year of Hogwarts.

Druella Black, honored wife of Cygnus, mistress of Black Manor and mother to three daughters, was engaged in a highly publicized scandal involving the lady in question and a distant Rosier cousin. The rumors spread and gossip fanned the flames of spite. Cygnus was wont to rush back to his abandoned family in order to take care of affairs.

But it was too late.

Unable to carry the shame and selfishly forgetting her children, Druella Black hung herself one crisp morning.

It was Narcissa that found her first. She was always the first to wake up. It was the holidays and the youngest daughter had been looking forward to a cup of hot chocolate to wake her up for the day. Instead, she found her mother dangling in the kitchen, face blue and body twirling in a most upsetting style.

She screamed and screamed and screamed, because what else do you expect of a twelve year old?

Shaken awake at the screams, Cygnus had roused himself and joined his rattled elder two daughters in searching for the source of the commotion.

Druella's death was the last stitch in the Black family's social standing. Friends that once heartily conversed with them in streets now completely overlooked them and quickly shuffled past, gazes held down by their feet. They were no longer invited to any balls or gatherings.

At Hogwarts, nobody dared approach Bellatrix other than the other dark youngsters, immune to shame. Andromeda kept herself occupied with her Gryffindor cousin who comforted her about her predicament. Narcissa had no one to stand by her. No one even knew there was a third Black. Instead, she haunted the library at every hour of the day, fading herself into the world of knowledge and facts. Madam Pince, usually not one for any form of affection, even grew to like this quiet young girl.

Narcissa ceased talking. She ceased existing. Nobody realized. She feared to speak should any other person ridicule her as her sisters did. She just seemed to disappear after her mother's death. Even Bellatrix and Andromeda forgot when they had last seen their little sister. No matter. It was of no great importance anyhow.

(o) - O - (o)

Lucius Malfoy knew his importance ever since the moment he was born.

His father had wasted no time making sure his only child, only son, only heir was well informed of grace, beliefs and aristocratic conduct. His mother had doted on him for as long as she could before her frail health hesitated for too long when Lucius was four. He remembered warm embraces and kisses and murmurs of devotion. That was the only physical love he had ever come to receiving.

In time, Lucius grew to be a good-looking boy with impeccable English and a haughty stance. Abraxas Malfoy eyed him with satisfaction when he sent him off to Hogwarts for his first year.

At Hogwarts, Lucius' handsome features attracted the whispers of female students and his cold cocoon of power held the admiration of others. It was a rare privilege to be included in Lucius' loop of friends. An invitation was not given often and was to be prized. It was to his dismay when his closest friend, Rodolphus Lestrange, had brought along a girl by the name of Bellatrix Black to join them also. Her challenging stare made him uneasy. However, he could not dismiss his closest ally and reluctantly assented.

Lucius was well into his sixth year when the world shifted into something foreign and unexpected.

(o) - O - (o)

Narcissa was as happy as she could possibly be.

Happiness was temporary and Narcissa imagined the fleeting moments of joy were enough to suffice the loneliness gnawing a hole inside. Her happiness derived from the pleasures of reading.

One night, when she had sadly parted with the closing library, arms overflowing with books, she tore a gaping hole in her invisibility.

The lights were dim. It was after hours and Narcissa tiptoed quietly along the corridors, feeling safe in her inexistence and sure that she wouldn't be caught. She had done this many times in the past.

Her thoughts never wandered and Narcissa prided herself on seeing one task through to the end. However, the large boulder of books roughly obscured her vision and in order to keep them from toppling to a heap on the slippery floors, Narcissa had to employ most of her concentration. Thus, she did not notice another figure approaching her until it was too late.

CRASH!

The collision was a painful one and Narcissa flew backwards, her books sounding an alarming racket, the echoes never-ending. She rubbed her nose and looked up. It was strange that she felt no fear. It was as if she had lost most of her human qualities the day she walked in on her dead mother.

A prefect stared at her, dull anger burning in his steely eyes. Narcissa stared right back, her face asking him a silent question.

"It's after hours. You shouldn't be here."

Lucius was tired. He usually didn't bother patrolling this certain corridor and was now regretting his hasty decision. This girl surprised him, though. From the small lights, he made out a dirty blonde mop of unruly hair encased in a frayed scrunchie. Her blue eyes glittered curiously and she did not rise nor collect her books as he had expected her to. Instead, she tilted her head at his words.

"Are you deaf, little girl? I'm a Prefect so I should take points off for this. Now, hurry along now."

Narcissa didn't move.

Then, as if a hand had reached into her throat and clawed out a voice, she spoke.

"I ain't no li'tle girl."

Lucius nearly stepped back. Her voice was the most disgusting, broadest Cockney he ever did hear. The horror snaked its way onto his face and he watched her disdainfully dusting her robes and reaching for the scattered books.

Deciding that this was not worth the time, Lucius turned on his heel and walked away crisply. The girl did not look the sort to rob anything and he was sure she was heading back to bed, anyway. Why concern himself on her when it would just lead to more work?

He didn't think more on it.

The next morning, Lucius awoke to the nauseating sounds of Rodolphus passionately kissing his girlfriend, Bellatrix.

"Rod! I would tell you to get a room, but this is your room, so would you kindly stop eating Miss Black's face?"

Rodolphus broke away from the kiss and laughed. It was only a select few that could ruffle Lucius' feathers so.

"How are you going to make me, Lucius?" He smiled at his girlfriend before tracing her jaw with a finger and leaning in to continue their embrace.

"I'll pay you" stated Lucius, unable to bear of this torture unfolding before his sight.

"Not interested. I have enough money of my own."

"Well, how about we have a bet?"

At this, Rodolphus stopped caressing Bellatrix's face and turned towards Lucius. "What sort of bet, Lucy boy?"

Lucius groaned and dragged a hand through his blonde hair. "We can discuss what at breakfast. Is that all right? Can I get changed now? Can you please tell Miss Black to leave?"

Smirking, Rodolphus gave her a final peck on the nose, murmuring promises in her ear and pacifying her rising rage. "Bella, darling. We can continue this later. Lucy is getting a bit hot under the collar. Be a good girl, now."

At breakfast, Rodolphus muttered grumpily, "This bet better be a good one, Lucius. Not much is more superior to Bella."

Lucius bit back his grimace and searched the Great Hall for potential inspiration.

Then, it couldn't be! He smoothed his eyes again, just to make sure. It was the strange girl from last night. In the morning light, he identified her filthy blonde hair, framing a slightly hidden face and draping down a small frame. He smiled.

"Rod, don't you always say that I speak like a 'right swanker'?"

Engrossed in his toast, Rodolphus nodded absently.

"I'll bet you that I can make the worst Cockney accent pass off as a highbred highness fit for society."

Rodolphus frowned. "What kind of crap bet is that? You could just find some sucker and make them pretend to have a bad accent."

"No, Roddy. Not this accent."

With that, Lucius stood, marched over to the strange girl, yanked her up and dragged her back towards Rodolphus.

Narcissa had been enjoying a rather peaceful meal when two hands suddenly snatched away from her rashers of bacon. Habit forced her screams back down. Nobody even seemed to notice them.

A handsome, dark-haired boy was leaning lazily on the table. "What's this, Lucius?"

She glanced up at her attacker. It was the prefect from last night! She couldn't be mistaken. Then, she frowned. What would he have to do with her?

"Speak, girl" he commanded imperiously. Narcissa blinked.

"Speak!"

A little inquisitive of what her speech might provoke, Narcissa spoke. "G'day, Guv'nor"

The dark-haired boy quickly winced and muffled his ears with both hands. Narcissa supposed this should offend her, but she was used to it by now. There had been enough nastiness from her sisters far worse than this.

"All right, Lucius. You're on. What are you going to bet?"

The dark-haired boy had stood up to face the prefect. Were they bartering for something or were her judgments incorrect?

"If I can make her speak, look, act like a perfect lady in time for the Christmas Gala my family hosts annually, you will immediately cease your disgusting trysts with Miss Black in our dormitory. If however, I should fail, you will have the dormitory all to yourself on Saturdays. I will find accommodation elsewhere."

Thinking it over, Rodolphus nodded and stuck out his hand. The two boys shook hands to seal the deal. All throughout, Narcissa's intelligent mind had been travelling fast. If she was right (and she usually was), they were discussing a bet and it had something to do with her!

"'Scuse me-" Narcissa began. Lucius immediately slid his cool fingers over her mouth. "Shh, little girl. Please don't speak. You're destroying my ears."

Narcissa glared at him hatefully.

He smiled disconcertingly. "Lesson one, my dear, only speak when you are spoken to."

**AN: I had this idea and couldn't resist writing it down. This story is based on My Fair Lady (hence the title). There are, obviously, some corrections to fit in with the Hogwarts scene. If there's any faults in logic that need correcting, please inform me. I shall fix them as best I can. Meanwhile, let me know if I should continue this or not.**


	2. First Lesson

_Disclaimer: I am not, nor will ever be J. K Rowling. I also do not own My Fair Lady or Pygmalion._

Chapter Two:

There was something very angry glimmering in Narcissa's eyes. For one, she had spent the majority of her life in silence, afraid of the ridicule she was bound to receive should she dare to utter a shameful word of the dreaded Cockney. For another, this hateful boy was eyeing her like a dirty and unclean horse he wanted to make a profit off. Every once in a while, Narcissa would open her mouth to give him a piece of her mind, only to remember his lazy drawl of , "Lesson one, my dear, only speak when you are spoken to."

She hated him already with a fervent passion!

Sadly, he seemed immune to her hate and proceeded to inspect her thoroughly. It was as though he didn't even consider her a human being, let alone a witch!

Narcissa could take it no longer. "'Scuse me, sir, but whatchoo doin'?" He quickly shushed her and leant back, pursing his lips in deep thought. "My dear, what is your name?"

She snorted. This ungainly gesture trained his eyes towards her face. "Now, now. Don't be troublesome. It won't do you any harm telling me your name. Look, you don't even have to tell me your last name. I just want something to call you other than 'girl'." After considering his words and deciding she could throw him a bone of sorts, she reluctantly released, "Narcissa."

"Like the flower?"

She looked away in answer and he chuckled. "Narcissa, your accent is positively the worst I've yet to encounter. But let's try to make this work."

"Wot's innit fo me?"

Lucius glanced up, surprised. "Why, you'll receive an excellent vocabulary and grammar set! You will speak, behave, act and look like a lady of the most gentile birth. What more can you ask for?"

Narcissa tossed her rumpled blonde tresses haughtily. Poor accent she may have, but she was a Black and her father's daughter. She'd be damned if some arrogant, rich boy tried to sit on her head as so! "I lak the way I speak, thankee ver' much."

"Well, I hate it and I need silence in the mornings, not Rodolphus sucking face with his girlfriend. Can't we make a deal? What do you want?"

She considered this for a moment. Nobody had asked her what she might like for as long as she could remember. The last time someone spoke to her was when some hurried student knocked her down and muttered a hasty apology. She had been isolated from desire and longing and vanity for so long that she didn't know what she would want. A lone word welled to the tip of her tongue, but she inhaled it quickly back down her throat. She would die before she actually uttered the word.

"Well?" asked Lucius impatiently. "I haven't all day, you know."

"I-I's be wantin'…"

She couldn't say it. She wouldn't say it. Lucius looked at her curiously. She hung her head. "I'd lak ter be a lady of sorts…"

He snorted. "Well, you must be more stupid than you look, for that was exactly what I offered before. Well, no matter. I shall make you the finest lady there ever was. We must get you ready before the Christmas Gala."

At this, he promptly stood up and circled her. Narcissa shifted uneasily. "We really do have a lot to get through. Your hair, for one, is disgusting. No, don't glare at me, it is. And quite frankly, I don't suppose you have much dress sense."

Narcissa opened her mouth to retort, but Lucius ignored her.

"We really do need to correct that horrible accent. It curdles my blood just listening to it."

"Well, sir, I's mighty sorry you's be list'nin' to me 'orrible speech, but n'body ever saw fit ter correct me!"

Lucius glanced at her, eyebrows raised.

She was angry. How dare he pick her apart like some… some rag doll!

"Well, you do seem to have an impressive collection of vocabulary coated underneath that Cockney. That takes care of a great many things. I think all we have to do is shape your accent instead of the way you think. It's much easier, now."

Disdainfully, Narcissa smoothed her tattered robes and sat down primly. Lucius laughed suddenly. "You know, Cissy, I do think that the only thing wrong with you is your outward appearance. You have the makings of a haughty society lady already."

She pretended not to hear him, reflecting, instead, of what it was she wanted most in the world.

_Love._

(o) - O - (o)

"In Hertford, Hereford and Hampshire, hurricanes hardly ever happen."

Lucius turned to face Narcissa. "See, Cissy? It's not that hard. You need to aspirate your H's. Now, say it for me."

"I ain't be lakin' bein' called Cissy."

"My dear, I honestly don't care. Now, say it: 'In Hertford, Hereford and Hampshire, hurricanes hardly ever happen'."

"In 'ertford, 'ereford an' 'ampshire, 'urricanes 'ardly ever 'appen"

He groaned. "No, you need to aspirate your H's. I already said so! Say it again."

"In 'ertford, 'ereford an' 'ampshire, 'urricanes 'ardly ever 'appen"

"That's wrong! I can't hear any of the H's! Say it again!"

"In 'ertford, 'ereford an' 'ampshire, 'urricanes 'ardly ever 'appen"

"Good Merlin! Can't you try a little harder?"

Narcissa sighed angrily. "I's be tryin' me hardest 'ready."

"Well, it's not working" bellowed Lucius. "I think we need a break." And with that, he swirled out of the empty classroom, robes swirling a dusty pattern into the air. The door was closed with a slam. Narcissa faced the closed door for a few moments. School had barely finished that day before Mr. High and Mighty Malfoy had pounced on her like a cat with cream. She hadn't even thought twice before he dragged her into an empty classroom. Thus, the torture began.

He proclaimed that with the state her pronunciation was in, they would need every moment they got in order to be ready in time for the Christmas Gala. She didn't inquire anything useless, as to keep her "disgusting" language to a minimum. She also discovered that her teacher has taken to calling her Cissy. Although the simplification of her name filled her with horror (Cissy made her sound weak and cowardly), she found a strange fascination at hearing a nickname directed at her for the first time in her life.

The lesson was not going well at all. So far, Narcissa had managed to achieve no success at all, and Lucius had reached the end of his patience. He was relatively agreeable at the start, but had morphed into an annoyed and very irritable person by the end. Nonetheless, Narcissa reined back her own anger and tried her very best to no avail.

Watching the door slam close filled Narcissa with shame and the familiar feeling of being unwanted. She drew her legs close to her chest and buried her messy head into the crook. It was like this, unseen and invisible, that she allowed some long endured tears to trickle down into her robes.

The sound of the door rushing open again prompted her to quickly rub away all traces of weakness. Thankfully, Mr. High and Mighty didn't notice. Obviously, he was too preoccupied with his ego.

"All right then, Cissy. Let's try something else. Can you say 'The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain'?"

She swallowed hard and opened her mouth.

(o) - O - (o)

"I think that's all for today, Narcissa."

Lucius slumped wearily into his chair. Narcissa's eyes were hard to read, but he was pretty sure she was tired too. "I'm exhausted, it's nearly curfew, and I have my Prefect rounds. I think we'll call it a day."

Wordlessly, she continued to observe him.

"This means you can scamper off now, Narcissa."

She hopped off the desk and quietly departed the room, leaving behind a sullen Lucius wondering what the hell he'd gotten himself into.

-

**AN: Okay, so a **_**very**_** short chapter. I'm sorry. But this is just a small insight inside their lessons (they do seem rather painful, do they not?). I'm not sure what the next chapter will have, but it will definitely be longer, I promise!**


	3. Triumph and Annoyances

_Disclaimer: I am not, nor will ever be J. K Rowling. I also do not own My Fair Lady or Pygmalion._

Chapter Three:

Somewhere along the way (probably between his incessant droning and angry insults) Narcissa had found her hatred for Mr. High and Mighty evolve into deep loathing. At this present point, he was (once again) attempting to practice the "long a" phoneme. And, once again, Narcissa was unsuccessful.

"Cissy, what are we going to do with you?"

"Issat a rheto'ical queshtun?" she snapped back. He didn't even look at her, choosing instead to wearily slump into the armchair in the common room, fingers rubbing circles on his temples. Narcissa resisted the temptation to grab one of those fingers and crack them in half.

"There is no possible way that we'll ever get you ready in time for the Christmas Gala! You have achieved nothing! I am doomed to find accommodation elsewhere!"

How strange that Lucius was the narcissistic one even though Narcissa had the namesake!

"I need sleep," droned Lucius. "I need to mull it over and… no, I just need some rest." With that, he stepped away and strode up to the dormitories. Narcissa found it incredibly rude how a self-proclaimed young man of impeccable breeding had neither the decency nor the manners to at least offer a quiet 'good night'. But it was of no great trouble to her. She was just glad she no longer had to restrain herself from ripping his silvery hair from his scalp.

Although it was nearing one in the morning, she did not feel tired. Usually, she would stay awake for much longer. Her eldest sister, Bellatrix, had once mocked her, telling her there was no way a person could survive on four hours of sleep a day. But she was managing fine, wasn't she?

So, instead of wandering upstairs to her own bed, Narcissa rooted around her bag for some writing supplies. She decided that if her "lessons" with Mr. High and Mighty were to continue, she must first relieve her anger.

Therapeutically, she proceeded by drawing an extremely ugly portrait of Lucius, embellishing his face with a variety of warts and pimples. She did not write his name on the parchment; for fear that it would be discovered. Narcissa knew that the entire female population (and probably some of the male as well) were desperately in love with the stupid prefect, and it would not bode well for her should her creativity be exposed.

But even after thoroughly ruining the drawing's face, she felt a surge of anger spinning a thunderstorm inside her stomach. So she reached for another piece of parchment and determined that the best way to alleviate her resentment was to relieve some of her stress. She wouldn't hurt him, oh no. But maybe a jolly good list would make her feel somewhat better.

"Oh, jus' 'ou wait, Lushus Malfoy, jus' 'ou wait."

(o) - O - (o)

_Ways to kill Lucius Malfoy_

_Push him into the lake_

_Feed him poisonous toad warts_

_Quidditch accident?_

_That new hex I found yesterday…_

_Failing grade letter to his parents_

_Just stab him four thousand times in the gut_

Just another typical day. Narcissa had been shamefully accosted right after her lessons. Everybody was in the Great Hall for dinner. Everybody except her and Lucius Malfoy. And the only reason for that was because she was otherwise engaged in yet another round of futile attempts to correct her speech in an empty common room.

"Please, Lushus, I's be 'ungry."

He raised an eyebrow. "Hungry? _Hungry?_ Do you understand what's at stake here? I have never lost anything in my life and I certainly don't intend to start now. I will be damned first before I lose my pride and my sleeping chambers for some stupid, unrefined wench."

She bit back a retort and blinked away any traces of tears. He didn't seem to notice as he waved his hand. "If you can get this right you may eat."

But she had had enough. There was enough embarrassment in the world for her without these teachings. She had suffered enough abuse to finally give up. So Narcissa stood up, as regal as any first-class lady and inclined her head. "I's finished fer the day." Maybe Lucius had noticed something amiss, for her said nothing as the girl adjourned to her room.

Perhaps it had all been her fault. After all, hadn't she agreed to this disgusting exchange in the end? Narcissa refused to cry. Tears did nothing for any situation. Instead, she settled down on her bed and drew the hangings shut, folding her body into her legs and huddling in the middle of the sheets. Loneliness was no stranger to her. She had not known any particular kindness for a long time. But it still surprised her how sharp and fresh it felt every time. But these moments would pass - they always did.

That night she couldn't sleep. She was not a regular insomniac, but it was hard to fall dormant that day. Making sure there was nobody in the Common Room, she snuggled onto a corner of an armchair and dug out the list Lucius had given her.

"The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain." What sort of ridiculous sentence was that?

But suddenly, she clapped a hand to her mouth. Because those words, those precious words, which had always been fluently executed inside her mind, had finally found a connection to her lips and been spoken out loud, as true as the silver moon clinging outside the windowpane.

(o) - O - (o)

Narcissa was nowhere to be seen. Maybe the girl, feisty and tenacious thing, had finally given up and surrendered to the abysmal language of her circumstances. Lucius groaned into his mug of coffee and pinched the bridge of his nose where an orchestra of headaches was dancing merrily.

"Plan not going so well?" said a cheery voice. It was Rodolphus. The bastard had such a smug grin on his face. Lucius glared at him hatefully. "What do you want, Rodolphus? I'm really not in the mood."

The boy sat down and casually leant forward. "And where is the lovely girl today? I haven't seen her at all. Had a bit of a tiff?"

Lucius ignored him, sipping his espresso with a vengeance. "I fear she's abandoned my wager and left me to drown in your triumph." But no sooner were the words out of his mouth did he see a twitch of tattered robes. And _voila!_ There was the girl herself, looking extremely gleeful considering how things were turning out.

"What do you want now, Narcissa. Isn't it enough that your inadequacies are costing me my sanity?"

But she stepped forwards, eyes shining terribly brightly with fervor. "The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain."

For one glistening moment, he thought it was all imagined. That Narcissa indeed had not just uttered that one sentence in the most beautiful English he ever did hear. But then he scooped her up into a hug and laughed, his headache quite gone. "By God, girl. You've got it. You've got it."

Rodolphus looked considerably disgruntled. "Well, you've achieved part of the impossible, I will concede. But the language is only a slice of it. You have plenty of work cut before you, Malfoy. And I don't envy the dismal road you'll walk getting there." With that, he strode off into a crowd of black robes and smiling friends.

Quite joyous, Lucius led Narcissa into a classroom. "How did you do it? How on earth did you do it?"

For once, she was happy in his presence. "I realised that the key to my language lay not in how I thought it but how I processed it. I think quite accurately, you understand? And unknowingly, if I try a little 'arder-"

He gave her a look.

"_Harder_, I'm sure my language will be as charming as any other trained society matron you'll chance to meet."

He smiled at her. It registered for her that this was this first smile of his she'd received that wasn't smug or condescending or sarcastic. And it was a gorgeous feeling.

But then it disappeared. "There is still much to do yet. I promised to present you in the best light possible. And while I admit my biggest obstacle seems to be overcome, I cannot rest until you master all other aspects of being a lady. Come, Narcissa, there is much to do."

She wrinkled her nose. "Now, I am not your pup nor servant. Can't you please speak to me like a lady?"

He laughed. "I will when you become one."

(o) - O - (o)

Hogwarts was a grand place. Here, he had respect, admiration, devotion, adoration and attention. Being Lucius Malfoy was an easy feat considering his powerful position and masses of blushing fangirls. Of course, there was the odd thorn in his paw (namely coming in the form of Bellatrix Black), but he could overlook it if he tried hard enough.

The awful thing, the one awful thing, was the lack of resources.

Perhaps the language hadn't been the challenge after all. For that, at least, only required his masterful instructions and not much else. But the male heir certainly had not much experience as a lady. Sure, he had spent some considerable time surrounded by plenty of ladies. His mother had been an impeccable example. That was, until her untimely death. Still, he preferred not to dwell on the past and look towards the future.

However, that future was remarkably bleak if he couldn't win the bet in time.

And that bet would not be won unless Narcissa became a lady.

And Narcissa would never become a lady if she wasn't ingrained with social codes of conduct as expected of young ladies or did something about her personality (which, though sometimes amusing, was just too fiery at times) or state of dress and presentation.

Indeed, Rodolphus was right. There was so much more to be finished and perfected before he could call it a day. And with this lack of help, how in God's name was he going to accomplish it all?

"Rosier! Rosier!" He hated turning to others for help. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

"What is it?" the boy drawled lazily, flicking ash from his cigarette. Lucius frowned. "That's not supposed to be here, and you know it, Evan."

Evan smiled and inhaled deeply. "What are you going to do, Malfoy? Expel me?" The plume of smoke wandered towards Lucius before curling into air. "I won't expel you, Rosier, but I do need your help."

"Well, well, Malfoy's asking _me_ for assistance? Surely somebody's recording this historic moment."

"Shut up. Are you going to help me or not?"

"I don't see why I'd want to. There's nothing in it for me."

Lucius raised his eyes heavenward. Jesus, this was what came of having no real friends other than Rodolphus (who was out of the question as he was the enemy at the moment). "Of course there's something in it for you, Evan. Isn't there always?"

The boy looked at Lucius, eyes sharpening with interest. "Oh, is that so?"

"Yes, it's so. Now will get off your arse and come help me?"

The cloud of fresh smoke that tickled his nose was Evan's assent.

(o) - O - (o)

**AN: Hi guys. A terrible earthquake hit Christchurch, New Zealand on the 22****nd**** of September. More than 150 are confirmed dead and hundreds are still missing. A large number of households are still without power or running water, and even more than have lost their homes. The city is in ruins, and I'd like for you all to help. Please donate or raise awareness or just tell someone else about it. Any help would be appreciated. Thank you.**


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